


Theatrics of Murder

by BootlegAvengers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Based on a Tumblr Post, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-26 09:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BootlegAvengers/pseuds/BootlegAvengers
Summary: At the turn of the 19th century, various attempts are made on several prominent figures in the New York social scenes lives, which leaves New York in a bit of a mess as the pieces are desperately being put together by a group of extraordinary people.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. chapter one.

**Author's Note:**

> an old story that was left unfinished is getting reworked.

“Alright Carol, let's take it from the top one more time,” a voice calls from the front of the set, all too commanding and irritating at once. With a heavy sigh, Carol Danvers turns around and walks back to her starting position, fists clenched, as the other members of the cast scurry around her to their positions. She turns to her co-star and speaks in a low voice, so as not to arouse the wrath of the director.

“This is the hundredth time we’ve done this take, if he says take it from the top one more time I’m going to… ”

“I know. However, this sounds like it will be the last take.” The British accented voice replies as a small, comforting smile graces her vibrantly colored lips. If there’s one thing Peggy Carter is quite good at, it’s reading people.

“I’m trusting you, Carter.” Carol steps to her position and mentally starts preparing herself for her character.

“I may not be the star of the show, but I’m good at what I do, Danvers.”

With a small smile and a shake of her head, Carol closes her eyes and lets out a breath, steadying herself for when the director calls action and waiting for the sounds of the chaos surrounding her to calm. People are rarely quiet on a film set, but a certain calmness always comes in the moments before the camera starts to roll. Instead, however, she heard a loud crack and a cry of her name before being shoved to the ground. It was over so quickly she didn’t even register the screaming in the room until everything seemed to snap into focus at the image of Peggy Carter laying semi-conscious on the floor, blood pooling from a wound to her shoulder and dazedly looking at something across the room.

“Don’t... don’t… get…” “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Peggy.” Carol doesn’t even hesitate to use part of her costume to try and stem the blood. Peggy Carter is tough, but a wound to the shoulder and a smack to the head are not going to do anyone any favors. “Get a doctor here, now!”

“He’s getting…” And of course she’s trying to actually get up because if there’s one thing Peggy ignores, its her own well-being.

“Carter, stop moving.” She practically orders the Brit, which does at least get Peggy to stop trying to go after whoever or whatever it is she’s seeing.

“That bastard,” is the last thing Peggy says before she passes out. “Damnit, where’s the doctor?!”

It was a routine that he had gone through so many times that it’s practically muscle memory by this point. After all, Edwin Jarvis has been taking care of Anthony since he was a small boy. Despite the comfort of it, he couldn’t ignore the tense atmosphere that seemed to weigh him down. He shakes the feeling off and walks to the manors main staircase, carefully making his way up. Reaching the top of the stairs, he makes a mental note of how quiet it is for once. As he continues walking the hallway, he pauses at a large window.

“Perhaps I should go into town later on today, seems like such a lovely day.” he says to himself.

Reaching the door at the end of the hall, he knocks, though by past experiences he knows there won't be an answer. He calls to the young master of the house, but still no reply. Opening the door, Jarvis is almost startled by the image laid out in front of him. Normally the owner of the manor would be erratically moving around on little to no sleep working on his latest idea, but today nothing; the study was empty and quiet with the exception of a lone open window. Jarvis sighs as he walks to the window, taking note of the untouched food left on the desk. After closing the window and collecting the tray of food, he heads back towards the hallway, when a faint noise catches his attention. Before Jarvis can even turn to find what made it, he falls, tray clanging as he hits the ground, broken glass surrounding him.

A door creaks open.

“You know Jarvis, you keep telling me to get more sleep and now the one time I happen to take your advice you start making all this noise.” The voice of a younger male jokes. After a few moments of silence, the door opens further.

“Jarvis? Hello?” Again, no reply. The young male heads towards the sound, bare feet padding against the wooden floor.

“Seriously what is going on, I didn't even leave the study in that bad-” the voice stops as he sees the sight in front of him. Edwin Jarvis, barely conscious on the study floor with blood coming from a cut on his head, glass from a vase scattered around him.

“Sir-” is the only thing that comes from the faint voice of the butler.

Crouching down and pressing the edge of his robe against the cut, the young man trying to remain calm but failing to do so replies: “I’m going to get help, hang in there okay? Okay?”

The last thing Edwin Jarvis spoke before blacking out was his charges name.

Clint Barton is a simple man. His mother taught him to live within his means. Even after moving from the midwest a year and a half ago to New York he never was overly greedy. So what if he moved because he heard New York is where the money is, and so what if he lost a huge bet against that pretty foreign dame in that bar all those months ago? His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by the bartender.

“Hello? I asked you if you wanted another?”

“Aw, sorry. Yes, yes I would.” Clint replied, flashing a grin. He takes a sip of his drink and looks off into the bar, watching the pianist in the corner. The bar was surprisingly quiet for a Friday evening. He takes another sip of his drink, looking around again he can count a total of ten people.

“Well, that’s odd.” He murmurs quietly to himself, turning to face the bar again. As he takes the last swig of his drink, he takes note of the bartender. Constantly looking at the staircase behind him and then back at Clint.

“Hmmm.” Clint takes a breath and thinks, _This can’t be good_.

Looking up he catches a reflection in the small mirror above the bar. At the landing of the staircase a man stands with a gun. Just as he fires the gun, Clint manages to jump behind the bar.

“Fuck.” Looking up at the mirror again, Clint catches the man, almost finished reloading his gun. Knowing he doesn’t have much time he grabs a knife from the bartop he stands to throw it as the man. The man looks up and shoots, only to be hit in the shoulder with the knife.

Clint hits the ground again, groaning as he holds his left shoulder, hand already getting soaked with blood. He huffs as he looks around from his hiding spot, plotting for a quick way out. Realizing he was closer than he thought to the doors, he turns to the bartender who also was hiding behind the bar.

“Well, this was fun but I’m going to be going now if that's fine with y’all.” Clint quips, giving a salute with his bloody hand, making a dash for the door. Once outside Clint manages to hide in the shadows, trying to avoid being seen by that man or anyone really. He can hear voices getting closer to his location in the shadows. As he crouches lower to the ground behind the garbage cans, he squeezes his eyes shut in pain from the shoulder wound. As the voices fade, he takes a deep breath of air and starts moving again as silently as possible even though he doesn’t have a plan.

“Aw damn.” Clint whispers, looking at his shoulder, his shirt quite soaked with blood.

Turning a corner, he looks around. Not even a second later his eyes light up, landing on a small house. He starts to make a break for the house, despite feeling light headed. Despite the odds, Clint reaches the door and bangs on it with his bloody fist.

“C’mon I know y’all are home” he calls out faintly, banging against it again. He leans against the wall of the house, slowly sliding down it until he’s sitting down. Taking another slow deep breath, Clint blinks. His vision is getting blurry and he can’t figure out if it has to do with the blood loss or the pain; probably both. He weakly hits his fist against the door again.

“Y’all really suck right now, you know that?” Clint whispers, as his eyes close.

Moments after the front door opens.

“Oi, what the-”

“Who is it brother?” a female voice calls.

“It’s Clint! He’s hurt, Wanda, help me get him inside!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> questions, comments, concerns? find us at cahavengers.tumblr.com


	2. chapter two

It’s been days since the attack at the theatre, the press still having a field day with the story. Carol adjusts herself in the chair, attempting to get comfortable. Her cat Goose is sleeping in the chair next to her. She has yet to receive any current updates on Peggy’s condition. Carol looks around the waiting room, it’s empty except for the staff in the hospital. She sits back into the chair, hoping that she can go see her friend soon.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice brings Carol out of her thoughts, looking up she sees a young man.

“No, not at all.” Carol replies sweetly, looking around the room at all the empty chairs. “It must be hard finding a seat with how busy it is and all.”

“Absolutely.” He laughs, extending a hand. “The name is Anthony.”

“Carol Danvers.”

“Oh, I know. You’re a killer actress, big fan by the way.” Anthony says with a smile. “I heard about the incident on your latest work, must have been awful.”

“You know, it happened so fast I truly didn’t even see what happened. One second I was standing in my spot getting ready, the next I was pushed across the stage.”

“Is there any word on what happened?”

“No, no unfortunately not.” replies Carol. A door opens, cutting off Carol’s train of thought as a doctor begins speaking.

“Anthony, what did I say about getting on my patient’s nerves?”

“If she was your patient she’d be on the other side of that door wouldn’t she, huh Stephen?”

Carol looks between the two of them, taking in the scene. The man she recently came to know as Anthony looking up at the doctor with a cheshire cat grin on his face, looking up at the doctor who had more or less of an exhausted look.

“Do you two know each other?”

The replies of “Yep” and “Unfortunately” come through at the same time, causing the two men to glare at each other. Shaking her head, Carol decides to change the subject.

“Is there any word on Peggy?”

“Nothing you haven’t already been told. She’s still in critical shape, I told you before that if anything changes we’ll let you know.”

“I just don’t understand how you don’t know anything.” Carol murmurs, causing a huffed laugh from Anthony. As the doctor opened his mouth to reply, a nurse called out to him for help.

“If that’s all, I believe I am needed elsewhere.” He says turning to walk away. A few seconds pass before Carol looks up at the man across from her.

“How do you know him?”

“Who?” Anthony asks looking at Carol. “That doctor?”

“Yes.” “His name is Stephen Strange, I’ve known him for a few years. He’s had to patch me up after a few accidents.” A moment passes. “Don’t worry, your friends in good hands. He’s the best doctor here. In New York probably, though I’d never tell him that.”

A laugh escapes Carol.

“Why is that?”

“Don’t want it going to his head. He already has a big enough ego. I was a little relieved when his lead nurse Christine took care of my situation last week to be honest.”

“Situation? But you look fine..”

“Not me, my family’s butler- Jarvis. He was attacked in our house, hit on the head with a vase. Lost a bit of blood, though he’s fine now. They kept him here for a few days and then let him go.”

“I think I read about that in the paper.” Carol replies. “It must have been awful. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“As am I, he’s all I got left really since I lost my parents.” Anthony takes a breath before continuing, a little quieter than before. “Between you and me, I don’t think this was a random event. Hearing your story, I don’t think yours was either.”

Carol looks at Anthony as he stands up in a stunned silence.

“I should probably beat it, before Stephen finds an excuse to throw me out again.” he says with a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Carol Danvers.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Anthony… I don’t believe I got your last name.”

“Oh, it’s Stark. Anthony Stark.” and with a nod he walks towards the door, looking back just before he exits. “Oh and Ms. Danvers, be careful, okay?”

Carol smiles in return and settles back in her chair. She picks up a discarded newspaper piled on the table in the center of the room. Maybe reading about other people’s problems will help take her mind off of her own.

A perfectly manicured hand flips the page, lips pursed together as she continues reading.

“It’s such a shame, isn't it?” A voice behind the bar asks.

Green eyes glanced up from the paper, looking at the bartender, questioning his statement.

“The attack on that British actress- Peggy Carter. A real knockout too, bright future.”

Closing the paper and looking at the headline, a realization hits her.

“Oh, yes. Yes it is. I hope she’s okay.”

As the bartender turns to help another patron, she opens the paper again to begin reading when a loud voice halts the process. “

Natalia!” Looking up, the red head sees a colleague walking towards her. As he reaches her she can tell something is a little off; he’s a little more anxious than normal.

“Wade, what can I help you with?” The only response Natalia gets is the paper being ripped out of her hands by Wade, the pages being flipped through a tad frantic.

“What’s going on? Where’s Barton? Was he not supposed to be joining us today?” She continues staring at him, searching for an answer. When she doesn’t receive one a second time, Natalia reaches out and grabs his arm, shaking it slightly.

“Wade Wilson, tell me what’s going on this instant.”

“What? Damn, sorry.” The paper gets laid out in front of her. “Look. Read.” At the bottom of one of the pages, tucked between a dry cleaning advertisement and a report on those newfangled automobiles, was a small article about a local bar. Five lines in total. All it detailed was that a bar had opened back up after two patrons had started a fight. Bar fights happened all the time in New York City, and Natalia knew this alone wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But something seemed off about this article. It was just a little too vague for her liking.

Glancing up she looks at Wade, only to find his blue eyes staring back at her.

“Okay, so it’s a bar fight. They happen all the time, Wilson.” Her reply is only met with a groan from her companion.

“Natalia, the last place Clint was seen was this bar. On the night of the fight. I have been hunting everywhere for him. I cannot find him.”

_Oh_, she thinks. That explains everything.

“Wade, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t keep tabs on him. Clint is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

“Natalia, that’s a crock of shit, you keep tabs on everyone.” Wade says, crossing his arms.

“What makes you say that?” She replies with a raised eyebrow. Damn, he really does know her well.

He ignores the bait. “So are you going to help me or not? It would be awfully romantic if you rescued him.” Wade flutters his lashes dramatically. “Besides, something is going on in this city. It’s just too coincidental that three people had all been attacked in a matter of days. Even I’m not boneheaded enough to buy that,” he continues.

Natalia sighs. “Two is a coincidence, three is a pattern,” she mutters. ‘Who was the third victim again?”

“Some butler to this loaded guy, Smith? Stevens?”

“Stark?!”

“That’s the one. What, you know him personally or something?”

“He’s an old acquaintance, you could almost call him a friend of sorts.” Wade snorts. Knowing her, an old acquaintance could mean someone she once tortured for information or helped smuggle into another country. “But if he was targeted, it isn’t a coincidence at all.”

She brushes aside a lock of hair that had come loose from her perfect bun. Her green eyes had a spark to them, one Wade knew well. Standing up from the table, Natalia straightens herself out.

“Where are you going?” Wade questions, looking up at her.

“To find Stark. He has to know something about this now.”

“And I should do what? Sit here looking like some bum?”

“You already look like a bum.” She retorts with a grin.

“Go ask around on the streets, your connections. Someone has to have heard something.”

Natalia doesn’t look back as she leaves Wade standing by himself at the bar counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find us at cahavengers.tumblr.com


End file.
